


Those Magic Changes

by wernythepoohx



Category: Actor RPF, Grease: Live, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Pining, Song Lyrics, but not actually sneaky at all, idek if this is super angsty or not, my first (somewhat) gay fic yay, sneaky references to the hobbit, those magic changes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 00:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6543868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wernythepoohx/pseuds/wernythepoohx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grease - "Those Magic Changes"</p><p>Bar settings, performers, sad gay boys, lots of pining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Those Magic Changes

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this a while ago, soon after I watched Grease: Live and fell in love with the song. I can totally imagine Aidan in this sort of bar AU so tadaa I wrote something

"Can you go and clear those tables?" Dean looks over at his manager, Richard, indicating at some benches. He nods his head in acknowledgement and brings an empty tray over. Dean takes in a deep breath, the scent of alcohol lingering as it travels to his lungs. He relishes in it; tonight is more packed than usual, and he isn't feeling too great. No, Dean isn't sick, instead feeling hollow as waves of customers flood into Dwalin's Tavern, and intoxicated drunks stagger out.   
  
"Oh cheer up, Deano!" Dean's colleague Luke thumps him on the back as he passes. “It’s going to be a good night. I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes.” Dean smiled half-heartedly after his gay co-worker. Luke was always the more cheerful one out of the two, and he embraced love (which is equal, as Luke would say) with open arms.

 

Despite all the positivity from Luke, Dean does the opposite and his shoulders sag: he hasn't been called Deano in a long time, not since he was with Aidan. That was not something Dean wanted to dwell on for too long in secular places.   
  
He musters up his energy and best energetic face and completes his job, heading back to the counter. He flips through what Dwalin's call their "reservations" book, looking to see what sort of performance try had booked for the night. 'Turner, acoustic, 8pm,' Dean makes out from the scrawl. Ah, so their deteriorating radio can rest for the night. No need to turn on the same repetitive bar playlist. Shutting the book, Dean sighs heavily. Turner. Everything reminds him of Aidan. But that ended a year ago, and Dean knows that Aidan is having a good life with Sarah. Best he forgets him, and move on.   
  
The evening passes by, Dean barely noticing the clock hands representing 8 o'clock, until the lights dim, courtesy of Richard. Dean looks up and his world goes silent. He watches as a man with straggly dark hair tunes his guitar and strums a quick chord progression. Luke stands next to Dean, saying, "I've heard this guy's pretty good."   
Dean whispers, "I know."   
  
"Hi guys, I'm Aidan Turner," he grins as he is met with scattered applause. "This is my first time at Dwalin's, which I've heard is pretty good. I mean, look at those bartenders!" He wolf whistles, pointing to all the workers he can see.  Shit , Dean panics, as he tries to move to the back room. He isn't quick enough, as he sees Aidan freeze on stage, his finger elevated in Dean's direction. Busted. They maintain eye contact for a few seconds before Aidan looks away and back to the crowd. Aidan's smile, Dean notes, doesn't have the same authenticity as before.   
  
"My first song of the night I'll just start off with to warm us up. It's a cover, and this goes to someone I hold dear, but also to all you Pink Ladies and Black T-Birds out there!” He’s met with a few cheers, Dean joining in nervously. Dedicating his first song of the night to Sarah, how cute.

 

Aidan plucks a short riff in the lower strings of his acoustic guitar, setting up the scene for the song. When he starts singing, his upper arm moves, strumming the strings in fluid motions.

 

‘What’s that playing on the radio?

Why do I start swaying to and fro?

I have never heard that song before,

but if I don’t hear it anymore:’

 

Dean watches as the fingers on Aidan’s left hand switch position for each new chord.  I, vi, IV, V.  One of the most simple chord progressions.  I, vi, IV, V again. Repeat.  Dean thinks sourly:  if only life could rewind and replay those simple moments, to the ones with the most stability, structure and simplicity.   
  


‘It’s still familiar to me, sends a thrill right through me:

because those chords remind me of the night that I first fell in love to’

 

Aidan looks at Dean for the chorus, and Dean can’t help the resurgence of butterflies in his tummy. But he’d never admit that out loud, or he’d never hear the end of it.

 

‘those magic changes. My heart arranges

a melody that’s never the same;

a melody that’s calling your name.

  
‘It begs you, “Please, come back to me.

Please return to me.”

Don’t go away again, oh make them play again

the music I want to hear is once again.

You whisper in my ear,

“Oh my darling, aha.”’

 

Dean’s eyes widen as a thought occurs to him. Is Aidan singing to him? Surely not? Either way, Dean selfishly wants the song to be about him, not Sarah.

Aidan keeps his gaze on Dean, barely looking down to watch where his fingers end up.   
  


“Hey, he keeps looking at you,” Luke nudges, doing an over-the-top wink. “Should I try get his number: yay or nay?”

“I can get it for you,” Dean mumbles, staring at Aidan strumming and avoiding Luke’s eyes.

“What?”

“I can get it for you,” Dean speaks slowly, looking up tentatively.

“Um, excuse you! You mean you say you have that hunk’s number?”

“Luke!” Dean shushes. “Aidan and I used to date.”

“Ohhh, is he the one…? Right, off limits, gotcha.”

“What? Yes of course he is, he’s got a girlfriend?”

“She doesn’t seem to be the one on his mind right now,” Luke muses, grinning and walking away to the beer tap.

 

Dean tries to not think about their conversation and focuses on the live entertainment.

 

‘I’ll be waiting by the radio.

You’ll come back to me someday, I know.

Been so long since our last goodbye

but I’m singing as I cry.’

 

Aidan hits the high note, and is rewarded with some ‘whoop’s and elevated applause. Dean can’t help but marvel at him: his eyes screwed shut, his hair framing his face, as he is absorbed by the soul of the Grease cover.

 

‘While the bass is sounding, while the drums are pounding,

Beatings of my broken heart will rise the first place of the charts.

Oh, my heart arranges, oh, those magic changes.

Ooh yeah.’

 

He repeats parts of the song again, modulating each time to a higher key. Dean sees the vein in his neck pulsing and straining, and he swallows thickly. He remembers when Aidan would hold personal concerts for him, and afterwards he would massage Aidan’s shoulders and neck to relax him after singing his heart out. Dean also recalls when they used to lie together after Aidan had settled, and he would run his fingers through his prickly stubble,.Aidan would let out a soft laugh - Dean would always bring up how ticklish he is there - and snuggle into his touch, a grin settling onto his face, which Dean mirrored.

 

Dean is brought back from his thoughts when Aidan strums the repeating chord progression once more and leaves the last notes ringing out. It’s silent for a moment, and Aidan’s voice cracks as he says, “Thank you.” But that is drowned in the midst of whistles and cheering. As Dean turns away, he doesn’t miss Aidan’s forlorn gaze towards him.

 

But Dean doesn’t return the gaze, doesn’t do anything. Because he knows it’s over between him and Aidan, and he has to move on, or he’ll be forever hung up on the past.

 

As Dean goes back to serving customers once they’ve scattered from their stage, he's met with rave reviews about Aidan’s voice and how he should perform at Dwalin’s Tavern on a regular basis. He can’t deal with any more painful reminders. When it quietens down at the counter, Dean takes a huge sigh, running his hands through his frazzled hair.

“Are you doing alright there?” He looks up to see a young woman with brown hair and hazel eyes, smiling sympathetically at him.

“Yeah, I’m just peachy,” he says somewhat sarcastically, refilling her cup as she gestures for more. She chuckles slightly.

“Need someone to talk to?”

“I-I’m still working,” Dean stutters. He was never good at talking to people. It was always Aidan, he was the more confident one. But Dean had to try.

“That’s okay, I’ll wait. You look like you need to vent,” she smiles. “I’m Sarah, by the way.”

 

Dean freezes. Why did everything in the world have to remind him of Aidan? He swallows the lump in his throat. Best he forgets him, Dean reminds himself, and move on.

  
“I’m Dean.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
